


Royals

by never_wake_up



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Bellarke Valentines, F/M, Tattoo Artist Clarke, Tattoo Shop AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-18
Updated: 2016-02-18
Packaged: 2018-05-21 11:49:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6050533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/never_wake_up/pseuds/never_wake_up
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Happy Valentine's Day, raincityruckus!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Royals

**Author's Note:**

  * For [raincityruckus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/raincityruckus/gifts).



It was a slow day at the shop, Tuesday nights usually were. Clarke was perched with her elbows resting on a glass case of body jewelry at the front of the store, head buried in a tattooing magazine. She sent her other artist, Murphy, home for the night and told her cashier, Monty, she could manage until closing. She sighed and loudly turned a page in her magazine. _Two more hours_.

The bell on the door sounded and Clarke jumped, not expecting any more clients. In walked a tall, tanned man with a tousled mop of dark hair. He removed his sunglasses and his eyes settled on Clarke, who tossed her magazine aside. She was wearing a long-sleeved black v-neck that just began to reveal an intricate design on her skin. A small silver hoop adorned one side of her nose and her blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders.

“Hi there, what can I help you with?” she asked, trying to sound enthusiastic.

“I’m looking to get a tattoo today,” he replied, looking around the empty shop. “Are there any artists here or…” the man trailed off.

“Yeah, _I_ am,” Clarke snapped, clearly offended. _What a douche bag._

The man raised his hands in surrender, “Alright, alright, no offense meant.” He chuckled warmly.

Clarke rolled her eyes, “What did you have in mind?”

“I want a dagger on my arm” he said, tapping is right bicep. “And underneath it, ‘slay your demons’.” Clarke pulled out a book of all her flash designs and opened to the daggers.

“Pick one you like, the lettering will be extra. Once you’ve chosen let me know,” she recited, disinterested. Clarke made her way to the back to start prepping.

“I’m Bellamy, by the way,” he called from the other room.

Clarke emerged with some papers and a pen, extending them to him. “Clarke.”

“Nice to meet you, Clarke,” Bellamy chimed, taking the papers and signing them. “I’d like this one,” pointing to an American traditional style dagger.

 _At least he has good taste in tattoos,_ Clarke thought. “Perfect, just come back here and we’ll get started,” she gestured towards the back of the shop and Bellamy followed.

Bellamy settled on the chair and removed his jacket while Clarke gathered her hair into a bun and washed her hands in a small sink. With her hair pulled back, it was much easier to see the swirling crown design tattooed on her chest. “So how long have you been tattooing?” asked Bellamy, reclining with his hands behind his head.

“Since I was 19”, Clarke returned. She turned to Bellamy, small hands now clad in black gloves, with the stencil, “You’re gonna need to take your shirt off.”

“No problem, princess,” he said, raising his eyebrows at her chest piece. Clarke scoffed at the nickname as he swiftly removed his shirt, tossing on top of his jacket.

“You know, you could at least take me to dinner first, before you ask me to take my clothes off,” Bellamy winked.

 

He sat, unflinching, as Clarke carefully maneuvered her tattoo gun over his arm, occasionally wiping away the excess ink.

“So how does a pretty girl like you become a tattoo artist?” Bellamy asked casually.

“Call me a pretty girl again while I’m holding a needle to you,” Clarke shot back, remaining focused on his toned bicep. She sighed, “I like to think I’m and artists and paintings don’t pay the bills. Besides, I get to meet all kinds of people doing this kind of work.”

“Oh yeah, what kinds of people?” He was persistent, she would give him that.

“Just all kinds of personalities. And I get to hear all kinds of stories, too. Plus, I’ve tattooed the lead singer of some Canadian pop punk band and someone who claimed to be Beyoncé’s second cousin,” she reminisced lightly.

"That's cool… Any studs recently?" Bellamy presses, baiting her to give she answer she could tell he wanted.

She smirked, pressing the needle down harder as she worked his design. "None really come to mind."

Their conversation lulled and Clarke focused on the intricacies of the design. She worked in silence for about a half an hour, the only sounds in the room being the buzzing of the machine and his occasional throat clearing when the needle grazed over a nerve.

"You're all set," she announced finally, after putting the finishing touches on his lettering. He grinned at her as she wiped away the remaining in smoothed some plastic wrap over the piece.

"I owe you one, it's exactly what I wanted," he cocked an eyebrow in the mirror, admiring his new ink. "I'd ask you out to dinner to further discuss your tattooing encounters, but I seem to recall you saying you hadn't tattooed any studs recently, so maybe I shouldn't bother."

As she turned to deny him, she was surprised to see he hadn’t yet put his shirt back on yet,

“You know if you let me take you to dinner, you can stare all you want, princess.” Bellamy cooed, smirking and reaching for his top.

Clarke opened her mouth to protest, but stopped herself. “Fine, whatever the hell you want,” she laughed and fumbled in her pocket for a business card. She extended the card to him, “I’m only going because I think your tattoo is badass, you must have had a great artist.”

Bellamy smiled, “Yeah, tattooed by royalty.”


End file.
